A Man for All Seasons (2 page)

“I know.” Marlie folded the dishtowel over the rack. “But I figured I owed you and I had no idea when you'd be back.”
Or if you'd be back.

“It's not like I could stay over there.” Ty's profile was to her as he looked across at the sofa. He still had eye shadow on his cheek.

Nope. Not gonna look at the sofa. “Because…?”

“Because she lives with her brother.”

“I didn't know that. Since when?”

“Since the week we met.” Ty draped his jacket over a chair. “Business is down and since Paul lives in a loft across the street from the restaurant, it made sense for Axelle to move in and take a smaller salary until things turn around.”

“Very practical.” If there was anything Marlie understood, it was needing a roommate to share expenses.

“And, look, I know we're all adults, but sound really carries in a loft and we're talking about the guy's
sister
—”

“Okay! Got it!” Marlie smiled brightly as Ty gave her a strange look. “I promise you that we can work this out. Just let me know when and I'll…I'll go stay in a motel somewhere.”

Ty shook his head and walked past her to open the fridge. “You don't have to do that.” The light illuminated his face as he stared inside.

Don't take out the box. Don't take out the box.

Thankfully, he grabbed a beer, twisted off the cap and took a long swallow, drawing Marlie's attention to his throat.

How many times had she seen him do just that? Not specifically drink a beer, but a bottle of water or an energy drink or some other liquid? He'd open the container and immediately take his first swallow standing by the refrigerator while the door closed. Had she ever noticed his neck before? No. Why would she notice Tyler Burton's manly neck, for pity's sake? Why was she noticing it now?

He lowered the bottle and gave her a long look. Marlie braced herself for the announcement that he was moving out. Since she'd hung up the towel, she didn't have anything to do with her hands, so she crossed her arms.

Tyler walked toward her, looking very predatory.

Marlie's heart thumped even harder than when she'd heard the door earlier and thought someone was breaking in. Except this wasn't fear; it was anticipation. But what
exactly
was she anticipating?

Tyler moved across the room as though in slow motion, his blue eyes steady, his cheek bones sculpted—but not in a modelly way, in a manly way. He didn't smile. His lips looked fuller when they weren't stretched in a smile. Very kissable lips, as a matter of fact. Nice and smooth. Maybe he used ChapStick to keep them in peak kissable condition.

Marlie might have some ChapStick around somewhere. It wouldn't hurt her to swipe it over her mouth every so often, if she happened to remember. Not as if she was going to get kissed any time soon, she thought, staring at the mark on his cheek. And then it sure wasn't going to be by somebody who was wearing more eye shadow than she was.

Without breaking eye contact, Ty stopped in front of her, not exactly in her personal space, but definitely close enough to smell the chocolate on her breath.

His eyes narrowed slightly as he tilted the beer bottle and took another long swallow.

Oh, he was getting ready to say something Marlie didn't
want to hear. In fact, he was probably thinking about how to break the bad news to her. Marlie clamped her lips together because she refused to beg. And because maybe then he wouldn't smell the chocolate.

 

T
YLER LOOKED DOWN AT
the woman who'd been sabotaging his love life since the summer between fourth and fifth grade.

He vividly remembered that summer. Their families had rented cabins in Colorado and enrolled Ty and Marlie in soccer camp. Marlie, being two years younger, practiced with the seven and eight year olds, while Ty was with the nine-tens, including dark-haired, dark-eyed, long-legged Blanca with the wicked kick. Blanca fascinated him—specifically her hair which blew all around, yet always fell smooth and gleaming back into place. And after practice, did Ty get to go with Blanca and the rest of the team and hang around the pool? No. Ty had to go over to the next field to collect little red-faced, sweaty Marlie with her bushy ponytail and walk her back to their cabin. Blanca never sweated.

Blanca could have been his first girlfriend. Could have, but wasn't, not with Marlie tagging along with him everywhere.

And every other year or so, his summer was interrupted by a trip with Marlie's family where he ended up responsible for her. Forget any possible summer romance. Even worse, while he was away, any girl he liked back home would find someone else to hang around.

The only good thing was that Marlie never got a crush on him, so they got along okay. And there was the one good summer, when he got his driver's license and they met the twins—a girl for him and a boy for Marlie, so she had somebody else to follow around. That was the only time he ever actually enjoyed one of the vacations.

A boy for Marlie. Somebody else to follow around.

Hmm. Maybe grown-up Marlie needed a boyfriend to follow around.

Ty studied her as he tilted the beer back. She wasn't his type, but she'd been engaged, so she was somebody's type. Or she had been. Her hair was still bushy—it kind of went with the eyebrows—but her face was pale and bland. Her eyes were wide as she watched him, arms hugging her torso, her hands disappearing into the sleeves of a gray hoodie she wore with baggy pants. She always wore a gray hoodie and baggy pants.

Depressed.
The thought came to him and he wondered why he hadn't seen it before. She spent hours in her office dungeon staring at a computer screen. It was enough to make anybody depressed.

“You need to get out more,” he told her.

She blinked and visibly relaxed.

What? Had she thought he was going to hit her or something? When had he ever threatened her? Sure, he'd been mad earlier, but that was mostly frustration and he was over it. Or as much as he would ever be over it.

“I know,” she said. “And I've already promised you that next time, I'll find—”

“I meant, for you. You look like a mole.”

Another blink. “I get out. What do you call running with you every morning?”

“We're running together?”

He raised his eyebrows and she held up her hands. “Okay, we leave at the same time. Give me a break. I'm still increasing my endurance.”

“You need light, Mole Girl. It's dark outside then.”

“That's because it's December.”

And that was another thing. “Is it?” Ty looked all around. “Where?”

“What do you mean, where?”

“I couldn't help noticing the lack of holiday spirit around here.”

When she gazed at him warily, he gestured with the bottle. “Over there is a two-story bay window with nothing in front of it.”

“I like the uncluttered look.”

“You can be uncluttered for the other eleven months of the year, but that spot is begging for a tree. Where's your tree?”

“Still growing, I guess.”

“Same as last year?”

“Trees take a long time to grow.”

Yeah, she was depressed all right. He should have noticed before now. “Why don't you decorate?”

“Because then I'd have to undecorate.” She spoke with exaggerated patience.

“Well, yeah.”

She stared at him, one of those I'm-dealing-with-a-crazy-person stares. “What kind of look is that?” he asked her. “It's a reasonable question.”

“We both went home for Christmas last year,” she reminded him. “Putting up a tree would have been a waste of time.”

“We're not going anywhere this year. Our parents are doing that Christmas and New Year's cruise.”

“So?”

Ty opened his mouth, but when he couldn't think of anything to say, he took another sip of beer.

Marlie's face suddenly cleared. “I get it. You and Axelle want to decorate for Christmas.” She flapped a long sleeve at him. “Please. Go ahead. Knock yourselves out.”

Ty hadn't thought of it, but a decorating date wasn't a bad idea. Hot cocoa with a shot of Kahlua, sugar cookies, the air conditioning set on low so there could be a fire in the fireplace, jazzy Christmas music playing, maybe those cinnamony candles burning, all the good feelings associated with the
holidays… Ty was so caught up in the idea, he almost didn't notice that Marlie had turned away and was headed upstairs to her bedroom.

“Hey.”

She stopped and looked down at him, no curiosity in her eyes. Not much of anything, actually. But then, he hadn't spent a lot of time looking at Marlie Waters. When they were younger, he'd never paid attention because he was usually irritated.

For the first time, he considered that she was probably equally annoyed to have been dumped on him during their summer trips. Kind of like the way he'd been dumped on her the past few months.

There was a thought he hadn't expected. This was her house after all; although it was so easy living here he tended to forget. Their moms had cooked up this scheme when he'd been transferred to Houston. At first, Ty had only contacted Marlie to be able to say he had, but once he'd seen all this empty space and she seemed okay with him staying here…but had she been? Okay with it? Had her mom pressured her? Was having him living here making her depressed?

As he looked up at her, he tried to remember if her expression had always been carefully blank and he was only noticing now because of the new vantage point, or if he should get her into therapy ASAP and find some place else to live.

She was waiting for him to say something.

“I appreciate you letting me stay here. I know it's been a lot longer than we thought it was going to be.” He watched for a reaction, a clue to her thoughts.

“It's not a problem.”

Nothing. “Yeah, but you can't buy your own furniture when I've got mine taking up all the room.” He nodded toward the living area. His stuff looked great in there, but it was guy stuff—an overscale chocolate-brown sofa, a massive
coffee table he liked to put his feet on, and the flat screen TV mounted on the wall. You could barely see Marlie's glass dining table and she'd moved her loveseat downstairs to her office. “If you want me to put it in storage, say the word.”

“It's
fine,
” she said with a hint of emotion. “Furniture shopping isn't in the budget, which is why if you weren't paying rent, I'd have to find someone else.” She took a step and then added, “But don't feel obligated to stay here if it's not working for you.”

She seemed sincere. “I
want
to stay here,” Ty assured her. “It's a great location. Better than my house, assuming it ever gets finished.”

“That's why I picked this place.” She gazed into the distance. “How could I pass up a revitalized neighborhood in the heart of the city with a chance to build a brand-new home just the way I wanted?” Marlie looked around. “And now I have my dream house. I chose every fixture, the colors, the floors, the crown molding, the upgraded granite counter tops, the marble around the fireplace, the appliances, the vanities and tile and the rain head in the shower.” Marlie's voice grew louder. “I looked at over a thousand door pulls to find just the right ones.”

“And they're perfect.” He'd never noticed them. Who paid attention to hardware?

She gripped the banister. “You see this maple? I chose this.” She slowly caressed it.

“Gorgeous.” Why hadn't he let her walk upstairs?

Marlie nodded dreamily. “The builder thought I wouldn't notice when he substituted oak, but I did and I made him redo our railings.” She blinked and froze. “
My
railings,” she corrected in a quieter voice. “My. Railings.”

Oh, no. The broken engagement. No, no, no. Not going there. They'd never discussed it and there was no need to bring
it up. If he did, he was in for tears and sobbing and wailing and who knows what hysteria.

Marlie's face had gone even paler and she seemed to shrink.

Say good-night
he told himself.
Escape now.

She white-knuckled her precious maple banister.

Ty groaned inwardly. What the heck, the night was already shot. He might as well man up and let her sob on his shoulder for a few minutes. “Marlie, my mom told me you'd been engaged, but she didn't know what happened.”

“That's because
my
mother doesn't know what happened, so she couldn't tell yours.” Her lip trembled. “
I
don't even know what happened.”

And then, of course, she proceeded to tell him what happened.

“O
NE MINUTE,
I
WAS WAITING
for Eric in the reception area at the title company so we could close on the townhouse and the next, he got off the elevator and told me he
can't do this.
”

Eric would be the ex, Ty surmised.

“
I
thought he meant he didn't have time right then because something…”

This was going to take more than a few minutes.

“…could have called me on my cell…”

Ty jiggled his beer bottle. Empty.

“…and he said ‘any of this.' The house. The job. The wedding. It was too much. He felt pressured. How could he feel pressured?” She poked at her chest. “
I
was the one who ran around taking care of all the details.
I
met with the builder,
I
planned the wedding, I arranged for the movers. I even packed. All he had to do was
show up!
”

“Maybe that was the problem.” Ty made the mistake of saying.

Marlie's eyes went huge.

He tried to explain, also a mistake. “Maybe he felt left out. Maybe he wanted to be more involved.” Even as he spoke, Ty knew he was saying the wrong thing. Besides, what guy wanted to be
more
involved in wedding plans?

Marlie's response was to run up the stairs.

“Marlie!”

Hell. But only the first level. It was going to get worse. If she hadn't told her own mother the details of Eric bailing out on her, that meant she probably hadn't told anybody. She'd kept everything bottled inside for what? A couple of years? Tonight would be her first venting. It was going to be epic. He was looking at the fourth or even fifth level of hell for sure.

Ty set his empty bottle on the kitchen bar and followed Marlie upstairs all the way into her bedroom. He was going to drag the story out of her if it took all night. Then he'd have the fun of convincing her that It Was Over and time to move on with her life. If all went well, Marlie'd find another guy and hang around with him, and then Ty could finally,
finally
spend quality time with Axelle.

“Marlie—” And he broke off.

He'd never been in her bedroom. His room was down the hall to the left and there was no reason for him to go to her end. There was an unspoken understanding that they stayed out of each others' bedrooms, and the most he'd seen of hers was a chair by the window if she'd left her door open.

So that was why he was hit with the full force of the bed. At first, he didn't even realize it
was
her bed. The mattress was entirely enclosed in a ceiling-high, open-sided white box with a charcoal-gray interior and rounded corners. He moved closer and saw task lights, speakers and a control panel in the padded headboard. It extended upward to form a solid canopy housing a projector, and continued in one piece all the way down past the foot of the bed to the floor. The interior of the footboard was a screen that stretched the width of the bed.

He'd gone slack-jawed. “That's…is that…?”

“The European media bed that was in all the magazines? Not exactly.” Marlie came to stand beside him. “I couldn't afford the real thing, so I had this one made.”

Ty glanced at her. She sounded better. Calmer. His interest in the bed seemed a good distraction for the moment, so he checked out the upholstered interior and the headboard controls. “You designed this?”

“Not by myself. I talked to the carpenters who built the house and showed them pictures. I ended up bartering a website for the bed frame. And then the electrician got involved and he knew a man who installed sound systems and so on. It was a collaborative effort.”

“Wow.” Every guy's fantasy bed. Ty had lived here a year and a half and had no idea something like this existed down the hall. Even more intriguing, he'd lived a year and a half with a woman who not only allowed the thing in her bedroom, she figured out a way to make it happen. He would never have picked Marlie for the type to have a techno bed. As far as he knew, she spent most of her time in her office, anyway. “Just wow,” he said, thinking Marlie had become a lot more interesting and that her ex was an idiot.

“The bed adjusts for when you want to watch the screen.” Marlie pressed a button on the control pad in the headboard and elevated the side nearest him.

“Each side has its own controls?” Did his voice actually crack?

She nodded. “Go ahead. Try it.”

Ty ignored the fact that he was climbing into Marlie's bed and stretched out. His feet weren't anywhere near the end of the mattress, which meant it was a custom size. “It's comfortable,” he said, thinking of all the things he'd like to do in this bed.

“That's the idea.”

“You'd think. But I've run across a lot of great-looking, uncomfortable furniture.” Ty ran his hands along the side of the mattress. “Good thing you didn't skimp on the quality.
This mattress has probably had quite a workout.” That didn't sound right. “From watching movies and…stuff.”

Marlie's eyes met his in one of her bland looks before she picked up a remote control. Curtains whirred across the sides, blocking the light, leaving Ty cocooned in total darkness. A moment later an ocean scene appeared on the screen.

The camera had filmed from a vantage point on the bow of a sailing ship. He heard the waves, the sails flapping in the wind, ropes creaking. Surround sound. Unbelievable. Ty half expected mist to shoot from the canopy ceiling to complete the experience.

What an escape. Imagine coming home to this bed after work. It would be like going on vacation every night.

Relaxing, he stared at the screen as the view bobbed up and down. Up and down. Up and—“Marlie?”

He heard laughter and the image disappeared.

“Getting seasick?” The curtains drew back and Marlie grinned down at him, taking him back in time.

Today we get to go on a hike! Mom packed our lunches—peanut butter, the smooth kind. Come on! Get out of bed, Ty! If we're late, they'll leave without us.

And he'd said,
I don't want to go on a stupid hike,
even though he did, and
I hate peanut butter,
even though he didn't.

Marlie had stopped grinning then, which was what he'd wanted. Why should she be happy if he wasn't?

He didn't want that now. A smiling Marlie was better than a crying Marlie. Smiling looked good on her, gave her a friendly, comfortable vibe. If she smiled more often, it wouldn't take long for her to find another guy. “This is a seriously awesome bed,” he complimented her. “I don't know why you'd ever leave.”

“Food?”

“Have it delivered.”

“Uh, the thing that happens after you eat food?”

Ty leaned over the side and checked the height of platform. “There's room for a bedpan under here.”

“You're talking about a chamber pot, but still ewww.”

He noticed something else while he was leaning over. “No way.” Pressing on a panel, he released the latch and opened the door of a small refrigerator. At the moment, it held a single bottle of no-name water and a lot of potential. He looked up at Marlie. “You are a goddess. Men everywhere should fall to their knees and worship you.”

Ty expected her grin to widen, not fade. “What?”

“This bed was my wedding gift to Eric,” she said, her voice flat.

Eric seriously annoyed him. “What was he, nuts? This is the greatest bed in the history of beds. How could he leave this bed?” Too late, Tyler realized how that sounded. “You. I meant how could he leave you.”

Her expression didn't change. She wasn't buying it. He wouldn't have, either. “Because…any woman who'd give a guy a bed like this…shouldn't be left.” Seriously? That the best he could do?

“He never saw it.”

“Well, there you go. If he'd—” A beat passed. “What I meant—”

“Are you trying to make me feel better, Ty?”

“Yes. But I am doing a crappy job of it.”

“You are doing a spectacularly bad job of it, and yet you keep hanging in there.”

“I should stop.”

“No.” She sat at the foot of the bed by the screen. “I find it oddly endearing.”

She might as well have patted him on the head. “As long as it keeps you from going over the edge.”

“I'm not near an edge,” she said, sounding edgy.

“Are you kidding? You're sitting on it with your feet dangling over the side.”

“You think I'm still hung up on Eric?” She rolled her eyes. “Oh, please.”

“Then ditch the drama and finish telling me what happened.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to know.”

“No, you don't.”

Did he truly want to know what caused Marlie's broken engagement? Marlie was a what-you-see-is-what-you-get kind of person. Not glamorous, but solid and reliable. A team player, not a diva. She had “wife” written all over her. A man didn't mess around with a woman like Marlie.

He studied her familiar, bare face and those eyes that met his with disconcerting directness. He could never lie to those eyes. No matter what he said or how he acted, those eyes saw the truth. Except, apparently, where her ex was concerned.

So, yeah. He wanted to know what happened. “Given our past, I can see why you'd think I wouldn't care. I didn't figure it was any of my business. But now, I'm making it my business.”

She didn't say anything, but some of the hurt left her expression.

“I want to find out what he did to turn you into a hermit who never goes anywhere and doesn't have any friends.”

“I have friends,” she protested.

“Your online buddies don't count. I'm talking about living, breathing friends you see in person.”

“They're back in Seattle where I left them when I quit my job and followed Eric here to Houston!”

A little temper there. “Make new friends.” Anger was encouraging. Wasn't it one of the stages of grief? He was fuzzy on the order.

She glared at him. “This is about you getting the place to yourself so you can sleep with Axelle, isn't it?”

Busted. “That's blunt.”

“But I'm right.”

“If helping you get out of your rut benefits me, I'm not going to complain.”

She smirked. “That's the Ty I know.”

“Following a guy around—that's the Marlie I know.” He sucked air between his teeth. “Ignore what I just said.”

She didn't. “We were engaged.”

“I was out of line. I apologize.”

“Our parents
made
me stick with you!”

“I know. I'm sorry for the crack. Can we get past it?”

She gave him a sulky look. “You're not endearing anymore.”

“Endearing's not my style. Fixing things is my style. C'mon, let's get this over with. Spill.”

“You are
really
bad at sympathy.”

“Do you want me to make a lot of ‘oh, I'm so sorry' and ‘poor little Marlie' noises, or do you want a guy's perspective on what was going through your ex's head?” Ty already had a solid theory. Two theories, but he hoped he was wrong about the second.

“I don't care what he was thinking,” Marlie said. “I want to know what happened between kissing me goodbye that morning and walking out of my life at noon.”

Ty had theories about that, too. “Did you ask him?”

“I was so shocked, I don't remember saying anything.” Marlie drew her feet onto the bed. “The bed was a surprise.” She gazed around the interior. “I'd arranged for the carpenters to install it while we were at the closing. Then afterwards, we were supposed to come here and christen it.”

An image of Marlie and the unknown Eric flashed in Ty's head and his mind rebelled. “Too much information.”

She tilted her chin. “And your love life with Axelle isn't?”

“Point taken.” He gestured. “Go on.”

“I only told you so you'd understand that I was completely blindsided. He'd never complained or expressed any doubts. About anything. When Eric left for work that morning, everything was fine. Then he got off the elevator at lunchtime and gave his ‘I can't do this' speech. He told me he felt tied down. He didn't like his job and he didn't like Houston, and apparently he didn't like me, either.”

“He said that?”

Marlie gave him a look. “He called off the wedding. It's implied.”

“Did he ask for the ring back?”

Marlie shook her head.

“So he didn't leave you for another woman,” Ty said, glad that theory was toast.

“How do you know?”

“He would have wanted the ring so he could reset the stone or trade it in.” At least Ty hoped Marlie had the sense not to hook up with a guy who was the type to give the same ring to another woman.

“Oh.” She thought for a moment. “Is that supposed to make me feel better about being dumped?”

“It makes me feel better,” Ty said. “Now I know we're only dealing with rejection and not betrayal.” Betrayal was messier. Lots of crying and runny noses with betrayal. “If there had been another woman, you would have found a way to make the breakup all your fault. You would have blamed yourself for not being pretty enough or thin enough or whatever enough. Then you would have tried to fix yourself and punished the next guy you dated for being attracted to the ‘new you' because he's supposed to be able to see past the ‘new you' to the ‘real you' hidden inside. But he doesn't know that. So you accuse him of being shallow. And then you break up with him—but
not until he's wined you and dined you and paid for a couple of pricey bed-and-breakfast weekends.”

 

“N
OT THAT YOU'RE BITTER
.”

Ty so clearly spoke from experience that Marlie wanted to laugh. She actually felt like laughing. Maybe she would. “I hope she was good in bed, at least.”